


All I Can Give...

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-01
Updated: 2003-12-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 03:28:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/196370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During S6, Buffy can think of only one thing to give to her secret lover for Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All I Can Give...

Spike was used to the sound of her kicking his door in by now, all violence and hatred and lust. He’d come to count on it, really. It was like clockwork. Two days tops of her forced abstinence, and she was breaking his door down once more and jumping him like he was her cheap blow up doll. Which he was. God, when had he turned into such a pathetic git?

But, all that aside, he was used to her barging in like she owned the place. He knew how to deal with that. What puzzled him was when he heard a tentative knock on his door. His brow furrowed further when he opened it to confirm that, yes, it was her. And she was looking unusually nervous, too.

“Didn’t want to risk scuffing your new boots kickin’ in my door?” he asked gruffly, standing aside and gesturing for her to enter. Feigning disinterest, he returned to his mini-kitchen and retrieved a bottle of whiskey. If he knew her, he’d need the alcohol before the evening was over.

Buffy just blinked slowly a couple of times and looked down at her shoes. “These are old slaying boots,” she offered, her voice sounding strangely distant.

Concern flickered in the back of his mind, but he beat down the impulse. He’d tried to care for her, be a friend to her, a proper lover, and all it had gotten him was pain and loneliness. “Right then.” He took a swig from the bottle before shrugging off his duster and folding in with fond tenderness over the back of his chair. “We doin’ this downstairs? ‘Cause ‘m not sure my living room can handle another tussle.” Not waiting for her answer, he marched over to the ladder.

Buffy’s brow furrowed as she watched him go. She deserved that, she supposed. He had a right to be angry with her. She knew he’d had such high hopes after their first kiss, but she’d spent the last month pretty much ripping any romantic notions he had to shreds. She’d never known him to be this openly sullen about it before, though. Probably because she’d usually jumped him and was taking what he wanted before he had the chance to get a word in. God, they were fucked up…

Slowly, she descended the ladder after him. His bedroom was lit by a dozen candles, tiny flames of light that brought life to this dead place. The flickering light caressed the bare expanse of his back as he angrily tugged down his jeans. Her breath caught in her throat for a second at the sight of him. He was so beautiful, and she wanted him more than anything right now, but…

“Spike, stop.” Her voice sounded shaky even to her own ears.

It caught his attention, though. Standing proud in his complete nudity, he turned to face her, lips pressed into a hard line and blue eyes flashing dangerously.

“I-I’m not here for that,” she clarified, keeping a cautious distance.

His eyes narrowed in understanding. “Oh, I see. This the ‘you’re a disgusting thing and we have to stop’ talk again?” He lit the tip of his cigarette with the candle beside the bed and took a deep drag. “Spare me, luv. I know the tune by heart already.”

She felt herself growing flustered and annoyed by his attitude. For crying out loud, here she was trying to be nice for once, and he had to go and make everything so bloody difficult! Would nothing ever be easy with him?

“That’s not why I’m here, either,” she added, more confidently this time, her irritation coming through now. “If you would just listen…” She threw her hands up in the air in despair. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation with you, stupid!” She wondered if tugging out her hair would be overly dramatic at this point.

He cocked his head to one side and studied her, eyes still guarded. “Listenin’ now, pet,” he said simply, taking another drag from his cigarette.

She took a deep breath to begin the speech she’d prepared and looked at him. Damn, why did he have to be naked? She couldn’t think straight with him being all naked and gorgeous and lickable and seductive and naked!

An amused smirk curled his lips when he noticed the direction her eyes were gravitating to, but he decided to cut her a break for the moment. The hand not holding the cigarette grabbed hold of the white bed sheet and pilled it in his lap, removing the irresistible temptation for the time being.

Buffy gave him a soft, appreciative smile at that. Deep breath, begin again… “Christmas is next week.” Good. Short sentences. She could manage those.

He gave her a ‘duh’ look but gestured with his cigarette for her to continue.

“We – Dawn and I – don’t have a lot of money this year. This makes buying gifts difficult.” God, was she the bot now? Had complex English language escaped her?

He made a sound that sounded something like a cough, but she secretly suspected it was concealed laughter. Her eyes narrowed. Good, as long as he was annoying her, he was the easiest person to talk to in the word…

“I’m trying to give you your Christmas present, and all you can do is laugh?” she exclaimed in exasperation, barely resisting the urge to go over and strangle and/or kiss her frustrations out on him.

This seemed to settle his mirth. “You got me something?” A look of something like pure awe and devotion shone through in his eyes. He gulped audibly, and she would’ve sworn she saw wetness in those big, hopeful blue eyes for a second. Then, he seemed to come to himself again and hid the emotions away once more. “What is it, a stake?” he added bitterly, hoping the extra snarkiness would hide his moment of complete vulnerability.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “If you keep acting like this, that’s not out of the question,” she quipped before daring to approach him. He didn’t move in the slightest as she sat down on the edge of the mattress beside him. “So,” she continued nervously, “I don’t have much money, but then what you really want doesn’t require a lot of money, so I got you…” an audible gulp, “me.”

He blinked in confusion at that before sighing. “A Christmas shag, huh, pet?” he sighed wearily. “Well, can’t say I don’t appreciate—”

“No, not that,” Buffy quickly cut him off. “Well, not just that,” she amended, cheeks flaming. “I…” Okay, she could do this. She was the Slayer, and she was powerful, and he was in love with her. So, no fears, right? Funny how it didn’t work out that way… “I’d like to take you out to dinner,” she began nervously. “This Friday. I’d do it closer to Christmas, but what with shopping and Dawn and all the guys, plus all the extra slaying work with the Solstice coming up and all, and why do all demons hafta go haywire four days before Christmas, anyway? And what I was saying was—”

He cut off her babbling with a fingertip to the lips, a fond smile on his face. “Are you askin’ me out on a date, Summers?” He couldn’t keep the goofy grin off his face no matter how hard he tried.

She nodded nervously. “I’ve scrounged up enough for a good meal at that steakhouse on Mulberry, and then maybe we could go to the Bronze or the movies or whatever. Just, y’know, have an evening when we do normal couply stuff and…” She trailed off, hopelessly embarrassed. This idea hadn’t sounded so corny at the time.

He considered that for a second. “Let me pay,” he requested.

Her eyes widened. “It’s your present,” she protested.

“My present, from what I can gather, is that I get to treat my girl like she’s my girl for the night,” he countered, leaning in to tenderly brush one lock of hair behind her ear. “That means payin’ for dinner.”

She had to bite back a sob at that. If he paid, she could use that money to buy Dawn an extra present. Maybe one of those CDs she wanted… “Thank you,” she whispered, giving in to him this one time.

He smiled shyly at that and ducked his head, and Buffy was suddenly reminded of the sweet man he’d been when she came back, the one she had been able to talk and had longed to kiss and… “So. Friday. Seven PM to one AM…or later if things go well,” she added with a sly smile, reaching out to cover his hand with hers, “I’m all yours…”

“We’ll prob’ly drive each other batty, y’know,” he countered with a little grin. “Chatting. Flirting. In public. What if your mates see us?”

“Then I’ll just tell them the truth,” she countered matter-of-factly. “That I’m taking you out to dinner for Christmas.”

“And no stakings?” he teased.

She laughed, surprised to find herself doing so even as she did. She didn’t laugh or smile enough these days, she knew. She’d forgotten that hidden little talent of his to make her smile, however. “I promise I’m not luring you into a death trap,” she joked back before frowning. “Although I can’t promise we won’t have to stake half the town’s vamp population…they all tend to know when I have a date and intentionally try to mess things up…”

“Always up for a bit of mayhem,” he chuckled, looking up at her with such blue eyes they took her breath away.

“Not too much, though,” she countered, thumb now tracing elegant patterns on the back of his hand. “I think it’s finally time I got to really know the man in my life.”

His own cheeks pinkened slightly when she called him a man. “Care to get to know me in the biblical sense first?” he inquired, cocking one eyebrow at a seductive angle as he leaned in to kiss her.

She pulled away, though. “Uh-uh, none of that,” she scolded. “It’s standard procedure that no making out can occur before a big date. We hafta get the UST up for the big night, right?”

His eyes glinted wickedly. “Not sure I can wait ‘til Friday, luv…”

“You will,” she insisted confidently before leaning in to brush her lips across his cheek. “’Cause that’ll make it even better Friday night,” she whispered coyly in his ear before pulling away.

He gulped and nodded, watching her retreat to the ladder.

“You’ll pick me up at seven on Friday, then?” she inquired with a fond smile.

“Can’t promise I won’t be early.”

“Friday, then.”

“Friday.”

And, with that, she was gone.

Spike sat on the edge of his bed, watching the place she’d vacated with a stunned look for a few minutes, before a boyish little smile finally lit up his face. “Well,” he said aloud to no one but himself, “isn’t that…neat?”


End file.
